Pretty, Young Things
by Scarletstar20
Summary: What do older, more experienced fighters feel when they look at their younger compatriots? Three fights happening simultaneously at DOA 4 tells the story of three such fighters
1. Part 1

Author's Notes: Trying something a bit new ( to me anyway). This a three shot about three of the fights that happened (in my own little world) simultaneously at DOA 4 from the fighters point of view, simultaneously.

I do not own DOA or any of the characters.

Pretty, Young Things

_Christie_

Explosions didn't scare her. They never would. As the copter pilots screamed in fear at their impending deaths, she embraced it, the night air was cool on her face as she saw her chance. The edge of the building was impossibly far for a normal person. The pilots looked at her in awe as she positioned herself and winked at them, before launching herself in to the night. The wind ruffled her hair in a greeting as she sailed forward. Behind her, she her the sounds of the copter slamming into a building. She tsked at her dead companions, didn't they know? Death only takes the willing. In the face of the destruction around her she laughed, she had and would live through worse. Her laugher continued as she touched down on the heliport. She maintained an amused expression as she noticed she had a spectator. He was nothing but a child. The wind gave his blonde hair the same greeting it had given hers. He watched her impassively. He was a stone statue in response to her moment of life. She started forward to the stairs. She had no time to deal with this right now. There were things to do and people to send to their graves.

"What this? I get to play with this cute little boy?" She said still cheerful, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

He crossed his arms and took a step forward.

"I'd have a hard time fighting someone so pretty," he said, in all seriousness, a firm look of concentration on his face. The absurdness of it, while hell was breaking out around them, started a whole new round of laughter for her. If he wanted to die early in life, she'd gladly deliver. She was in the mood for this kind of foreplay; it would only heighten the joy when she killed her true target. She positioned herself, ready to fight.

"Come to me, boy."

_Jann Lee_

Would she never leave him alone? He had though in the moment of confusion earlier, he would escape the crowd and find out what was truly going on here. The whispers in the halls and arenas of this place were that DOATEC had created the ultimate fighter. He was bored of the same competition over and over. He knew he could beat them all if he tried and wanted something better, something more. If the DOATEC fighter was the best, then shouldn't he be the one to take it down? So he went looking for it, hoping to avoid detection; but like always, no matter what he did, she had tagged along. Now they stood together in the entrance hall of the building, her eyes wide at the finery around, and his annoyance with her growing every second. The hall had been silent but for their footfalls until she spoke.

"It's kind of moody, isn't it?" She said, rocking forward on her heels. "But this is the perfect place."

He rolled his eyes inwardly; he knew where this was going, again.

"This is the perfect place for me to prove I belong in you world."

He had a number of things he wanted to say to her and they were about to roll off his tongue rather harshly, when a helicopter chose that moment to slam into the side of the building. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned to asses the damage. Fear flitted across her face as well healthy respect for the flames that licked at the marble. Another boom sounded in the acoustically attuned room causing her to flinch. He was impressed with the helicopter. It had managed to create emotions in the woman that he himself had failed, after trying for six years, to create. He shifted himself into a fighting stance, capitalizing on the moment. Perhaps if he fought her now, she would forever associate this moment, with it's horror, fear, awe and respect, with him instead of that stupid day in the alley.

"What's a matter, didn't you mean what you just said?" he asked, his voice sounding against the backdrop of noise.

"What?" she looked at him as though he had lost his mind.

Good, he thought, now she knows not to follow me around when she isn't wanted.

"Shall we die here together?" He said, his voice even as he prepared to move forward into a strike.

She was scared now; she looked like a rabbit that was fighting the urge to run away.

"I'm not going to die!" She said, suddenly firm, and despite all the havoc around her shifted surely into her fighting stance, ready to counter his soon to fall strike.

"No," he said, "you're not."

He fought the urge to smile, and he gave into the urge to lash out at her. She wasn't going to die, but by the end of this fight, maybe she would wish she was.

_Helena_

She had no idea that the girl would be here. It was an unlikely place for one such as her, she was new to the DOA tournament and had nothing to do with the goings on there. She should have turned and ran at the sight of the combusting building and screaming people. She should have been somewhere warm, safe and untainted. That's what she hated so much about the girl. Same father, different mothers and decidedly different fates, she mused. This child had been protected from the mystery of her father's death. Miyako hadn't even bothered to tell her. The girl was an ignorant innocent, forever preserved in happiness, and that why she hated her. She moved silently up behind her, even in her fury she was graceful.

"Our blood…" She said thinking out loud

The girl started, finally noticing the blonde woman who stared at her contemplatively

By rights they should have never met, but here they were. It was fate.

"The Blood we share… maybe that's what brought us together…"She said again to the girls gaping mouth, as if she had spoken her own inner dialogue aloud, she shrugged it off. That's not what she had followed her here to discuss,

Ask Miyako about it when you get home… She suggested nonchalantly as she stepped into her fighting stance. The girls eyes widened

You know my mother? She said stunned that this perfect stranger acted as though she knew her entire life story.

Kokoro… you must learn my techniques, she said advancing. The time for talk was over.


	2. Part 2

Author's notes: Part two, I enjoyed writing this, and feel it turned out well. Tell me what you think!

Thanks for the reviews for part 1, Gleeful Melancholy and Naughty assassin, I appreciated them!

Pretty, Young Things: Part Two,

_Helena_

She started forward, coming in low. Her eyes remained fixed on the girl, who still stood in shock unprepared and undefended. Her arms zinged out in a palm thrust meant for the girl's chin. Thankfully for her opponent, she and recovered enough to block it. The girl stepped forward, attempting to get into her guard. Totally juvenile, she thought invigorated. She brushed away easily the girl's strong arm attempts to get at her face and swooped down on her stomach, sending her flying. She was all arms and motion, her strikes falling like Shiva's. The girl could barely defend against her, all motion and light, and then suddenly her own legs were swept up from underneath her and a flurry of punches culminating in an uppercut that forced her own body several feet way from the girl. She hit the ground hard, a small yelp escaping her lips. She struggled to her feet. The girl was more prepared now and stood waiting for her next attack. She walked forward, out of formation, holding her left arm. Her eyes were down, carefully gazing at the girl's feet. She was inexperienced and naïve, she knew the girl wouldn't be expecting what she had in store. Stepping ever closer, her muscles tensed against her will as the girl's stance did not change. She let her head drop a little, the picture of a wounded victim. It was the rice that tipped the scale. The girl's stance dropped immediately.

"Are you alright?" the girl said, quickly coming forward to examine her arm.

She smiled. Perfect. Her head snapped up as she whipped forward, their faces inches apart. Inside her guard, she let loose a thrashing on all of the girl's vulnerable points.

The girl needed to learn the most important thing she to teach.

Such was her fury that she slammed her like a rag doll against the heliport floor. Her body bounced up, face twisted in pain, begging for some kind of explanation.

She stared coldly back at her, unsympathetic. Who was she to be so innocent?

Innocence is worthless, purity is worthless. It only allows one thing: People to stab you in the back.

The body paused mid air and she brought her elbow down between her shoulder blades. The girl eyes closed as she headed even faster toward the electrified floor. The sound of the slam was resounding, as was the silence that followed. The girl was unconscious, breathing shallowly. She glared at her, she had expected more of a fight. The girl had been stupid. Perhaps she had even been holding back. Wanting an explanation had been more important to her that striking down her assailant. Such innocence shouldn't be allowed to exist. She brought her arm up to strike.

_Christie_

She licked her lips, tasting the air around her. It tasted of burnt cotton, burn flesh and fresh blood. She liked it. The boy had apparently not realized the dangers of fighting in arena with an electrified fence. How typical of youth. It almost made the game too easy. He lay prostrate before her, trying to rise to his feet. His nervous system was busily redistributing the surplus electrical charges. He each time he tried to get up; he seized and fell back down. If there had been any witnesses, they would have thought he was a servant bowing to a sovereign. As it should be, she thought, smiling sadistically as she caught his chin on the tip of her boot and tilted his head towards her. His face was still filled with grim determination. It annoyed her. He was a kid, he was supposed to flinch, scream, look afraid; something along those lines. He was not supposed to act with the gravity of some old fart. It made the game less fun. She used the toe of her boot to force him up into a sitting position. His arm lashed out catching her ankle and she went crashing to the floor. It seemed like he was done redistributing those charges. She leaped fluidly to her feet only to be shoved half way across the helipad by a double palm thrust. She smiled and move towards him, to discover with horror that a rib had broken. She felt the bone twitch slightly, pain shooting through her side. Just who did he think he was, wantonly injuring her like that? He stood, facing her on the other side of helipad. He had gotten his second wind from some unkind god, apparently. The real kicker was that he was smiling, ever so slightly. Now, it was personal. Time for him to learn to respect his elders. She ran forward, straight at him, ignoring the pain. He wasn't expecting her to move that fast with a broken rib. His eyes even widened slightly. She cracked a smile, what a child. Before he had time to react, she scooped a hand under his guard and uppercut him under his chin, then in a swift motion, kicked him back onto the electrified wires. He bounced off and she caught him again; once, twice, three times. They were eerily silent, tension building; until suddenly his composure broke and he screamed in pain as the wires tore into his already seared flesh. She laughed as he fell to the floor; blood smearing her face. She reached down and pulled him up to her by the front of his shirt, so she could see his face. His eyes were glazed, he was only semi conscious.

"Who are you?" he asked; his voice low but not a whisper.

She grinned wolfishly and a small chuckle escaped her mouth. The crackling electricity nearby turned her face an unholy blue. Her face was inches from his.

"I am death, I shred your soul to ribbons."

She brought up her hand for the final strike.

_Jann Lee_

Sweat poured from her face. He couldn't tell if it was from the fight or from the flames. She was unsure of her decision to stay and face him now, he was certain. Her arms shook as the ground around them exploded from falling pieces of marble. He struck at her again and she blocked, but fear was getting the better of her, the block was sloppy. His third punch got through, flipping her over a piece of marble that caught in a piece of burning curtain. Her dress lit on fire. It followed her graceful rebuttal like a phoenix tail. Her arms swept under him, knocking him back. The flames were quick to lick her thighs, causing her to yelp in pain. He grabbed her wrist and swung her around, wrapping his hand around the burning fabric and ripping it off. Her dress ended now at her upper thigh riding up slightly as she moved. There was too much flame to tell if she was blushing, probably was. She came at him again, kicking forward. He caught her by the ankle and tossed her into the wall with a smack. Unstable marble shook overhead. He had also taken that moment to rip the front of her dress. It ended at about the same place as the back now. She scrambled to her feet, her legs shone white in the light. He liked the view. She punched at him while he was distracted, catching him across the jaw and then in the stomach. He fell back against two pillars like a prizefighter returning to his corner. She stood in front of him. Her eyes were pleading with him.

"We have to leave! If we don't we'll die here!"

He surged back to his feet and caught her by the wrist, instead of dispatching her, he pulled her close, eyes serious.

"I told you, you are not going to die. Don't you trust me?" He asked, voice deep.

Her eyes surprisingly quieted. Did she trust him? She broke his grip and returned to her stance.

She did trust him, he realized as he made his next move, why? The day in the alley? How could such a small act of caprice earn such trust? He was telling her to stay put in a burning building and she was doing it. Would she jump off a bridge for him too?

She countered his move and returned it in a flurry of strikes. He dodged most of them and her fists struck the wall. The marble now rumbled slightly over them both. A warning they did not heed. He danced around her, feinting punches, jabbing at her, trying to provoke her. He was rewarded as her wrist lashed trying to catch his punch, he caught her in the side, and into the wall she went. The marble overhead groaned as he suddenly found himself lunging forward to pull her out of harm's way. The marble crashed down on top of the floor where her body had lain seconds before. It had been a close call. He gave her a good smack forcing her to come to in his arms. The wall had given way to a secret, steel passage that's main attraction was that it wasn't in flames. He shoved her down it as another piece of marble slammed down in front of the opening, separating them. The jolt in her back had apparently put her on auto pilot, she ran blindly down the hallway, not knowing at all where it led. It took him only a few minutes to break through, and already she was leagues ahead of him. He took off after her at a run, just where did she think she was going anyways, they weren't finished yet.


	3. Part 3

Authors Notes: And now my tale comes to an end. This chapter, out of the three, was the hardest to write, and I'm still not quite sure how it turned out. Reviews are appreciated, as always. I hope you enjoyed this!

Boggy: Once again your review made me think and take another look at the piece. I think I have a different take on Helena than most people do, as I am not wholly convinced she is a sweet, misunderstood creature, but she also comes to Kokoro in the story angry, and I think that adds to her cold demeanor once the fighting starts. I am glad that you liked the Jann Lee section, as I wasn't sure that the dress ripping was in character. I'm glad you like it so far!

Disclaimer: I don't own DOA, don't sue

_Jann Lee_

The hall seemed endless as it was winding. The heat from the burning room had disappeared the farther he traveled, replaced with a bone cutting chill. He saw a flash of black silk whisk around the right turn and charged forward. A flash of red dress disappeared behind a door that closed with a metallic boom before he could follow suit. Instead of an entry, he found himself facing an intimidating mechanical wall. He approached confidently, expecting it to open for him as it had for her. The door did not budge. Annoyed, he scanned for a switch. Touching the metal wall caused a wave of chills to swim through his muscles. The adrenaline was wearing off, causing him to shiver. There were no markings at all to allow outside entry. Something must have let her in. A scream suddenly pierced the hall from behind the door followed by something else, not exactly a roar but terrifying in it own way. His eyes widened. He knew the former scream like he knew his own battle cry. He threw himself at the door, which suddenly opened for him, as if knowing standing in his way at this point was futile. He didn't even have a millisecond to react, but he was able to anyway, catching her as she flew into the wall, saving her from a grave of shattered glass. He held her lightly as he looked on her attacker. What was that? It could have been a woman but wasn't. Feral and unflinching, it made its way towards them, radiating an unholy light. It had her in its predatory sights, locking on with eyes unseeing. His presence was ignored. His gaze was brought back to her as she coughed. A thin stream of blood trickled down her mouth and on to his hand. There were new wounds, he noticed, marks he had not made and scorches that could not have been made by flames. His emotions were battling between fury at the creature and disappointment in her. He had only been seconds behind her, seconds! Look at the trouble that she had gotten herself into within that time! He shook his head. Her eyes opened and she looked at him, testing her arms and legs, coated in burns and bruises. Her eyes were filled with what looked like, if he didn't know her better, tears.

"Owwwww" she croaked, it was her last conscious thought. Her eyes slid closed as she went limp. Slightly alarmed he felt for her pulse. It was strong, she was only unconscious. The creature roared loudly but did not advance. It was still fixed on her.

Was it waiting for her to rise, to fight?

His mind snapped back to his original purpose. Here was the ultimate fighter. His prize lay before him, his for the taking. As much as he tried, he could not push his concern for her aside to enjoy his fight with the creature. Instead, anger on her behalf began to boil under his skin. He looked at her and half smiled, she was annoying, rambunctious, never listened and always stuck her nose where it didn't belong. She was constantly testing herself, throwing herself at him in battle. She was young and learning, and she was his to batter, to shape and to mold. He would make this creature pay for daring to strike her.

That was his job.

He placed her gently on the floor, positioning her bare legs in away so that they would not touch cold metal. As soon as his hands left her the creature started towards her at a run. He stood shielding her as he prepared to take on the bizarre creature. He had one moment to look back at her, and one last thought bubbled to the surface…

_Helena_

She flipped the girl over as she brought her arm up. "Today, innocence dies," she said aloud to the deserted arena. She brought her arm down as fast as she could, it was a blur; A blur that faltered inches above the girl's throat. She shook slightly, looking down at her. She could do it, she had to. It was a mercy, wasn't it? She was saving her from disappointment, the disappointment that she herself had felt before when she had been betrayed. The disappointment of knowing that world was a cruel place that would destroy you and those you cared about if you couldn't protect them. She raised her arm up again, this time she could do it; with a cry she brought it slamming down. At the last minute it diverted, crushing the ground next to them. It wasn't fair! Why did the world see fit to tear her to pieces, her who had never done anything to anyone! Why couldn't she do it! Why couldn't she tear back at it! The girl stirred, pulling her out of her inner monologue.

"Mother…" the word was half moaned, half sighed.

Her eyes widened as her own mind seized on it and sent her careening into her own mind. It was all so vivid; the music; the mayhem; the blood. In the mist of in all, her mother's body, cold, unmoving and silent. There was nothing she could have done, except sob and hope for rescue. She was surprised by wetness falling on the girl's face; her own tears. The fury that had driven her to seek out the girl was ebbing away, replaced with a few quiet thoughts. This girl was young; as young as she had been when it had all started, before she could protect herself. Yet the girl could stand on her own two feet and instead of staying safe, she had struck out to find the answer. Wasn't that at least worthy of commendation? Wasn't that something that ought to be nurtured? She delicately rose to her feet, her eyes not leaving the body below her. The mercy she offered had already been refused, long before they had met. She hoisted the girls body on to her back and dragged to the near by elevator. She laid her in lightly and pressed the button for the first floor. She knew the lower part of the building was in the process of evacuation. If she did not wake up on the way down, someone would notice her in the elevator. The girl's face was soft and angel like in the low light of the elevator. She felt a sigh of relief rush out of her body, and her hands, of their own accord, shook as pressed the button for the first floor. She stepped out before the doors closed. She had done the right thing, she realized, the thing that she had secretly wanted to be able to do to herself.

She'd sent her home to her mother.

As the door shut and she turned; her mind quickly creating proper thoughts of revenge against those who had made it so she could never go home; one final sentimental thought escaped…

_Christie_

He struggled limply in her arms, not nearly as amusing as before. Serves you right, she thought. She lowered her hand slightly. She let her blow fall on his shoulder, just missing the pressure point. This was ending it a bit too soon, even with a broken rib. He tried to stand up and she slammed him into the ground. His eyes, a bit nervously, flitted over to the wires again. She smiled; they were done playing with those things. She already knew he could scream. Now she wanted to hear him beg.

"Tell me, boy" she said releasing him to the ground in a lump, "Do you want to live?" She walked around him as though she was appraising a particularly good looking piece of meat at the butchers. His eyes were beginning to clear; soon he'd have fight enough to make the end interesting. He rose, following her movements, the gravity and determination were almost gone from his face, replaced by a weary regard. Blood trickled down his back and dirt smeared his face and matted his hair. She looked pristine, white and pure, with only a smattering of blood to show she had been in the fight at all. Did he still intend to oppose her? She sneered and lunged forward, catching him by the shoulders. He jumped up and attempted to plant his feet in her stomach but she swerved her torso to the side, keeping a hold of his shoulders and forcing them both to the ground, her arm pressed to his throat. It was a tricky move, but she had executed it like what she was, a professional. They lay on the ground now, and her body pinned him to floor like a pin in a butterfly, holding him in place.

She snickered "I asked you a question, boy" she smiled in his face. He said nothing and struggled, trying to get away and she slammed her elbow into his chest. He said nothing still. "You better hurry up and answer me, or I'll take that as a no." she warned, pressing harder. She wondered absently if she had the strength to break through his breastbone or if she was going to have to opt for a needle to finish the job. He coughed and sputtered, words were forming. This was getting boring; she broke one of his fingers, hoping to speed up the verbalization process.

"No" He said

"What's that?" she growled, "What did you say?"

"I won't play your game" He said coughing wetly.

She smacked him, almost playfully; even though she was sure it stung.

"You don't have a choice, you're already playing" she spat, "Do you want to live? Just answer the question!

She wanted her answer and she wanted it now. A nearby explosion distracted her and the wind blew her hair into her face forcing her to raise her head. He lashed out, where the strength came from neither one of them knew, and caught her by the throat. He tossed her off of him and, coughing, tried to stand up. She landed like a cat on her feet and lunged at him, catching the recovering boy by the arms. She forced them behind his back and pulled, grinding her boot between his shoulder blades. She felt the muscles stretch and threaten to buckle and pushed even harder.

"I asked you," she said through gritted teeth, loosing all elegance, "Do you want to live?"

She felt the right shoulder about to give out, his body was taught. Then she heard it, almost panicked, under his breath.

"Yes"

She gave his shoulder a vicious yank, causing his head to arch back.

"I'm really a nice person," She purred, happy with his response, "If you ask nicely, I'll let you. So should I let you live?"

"Yes" he whispered, defeated now.

"What's the magic word, she tugged on the right shoulder and the muscles ripped causing him to convulse.

"Yes, please! He shouted. She released him, fully satisfied with the fight. He wasn't really worth killing, and there were bigger fish to fry. She left him there on the ground and kicked him once, for good measure.

"Next time, don't get in my way."

She sauntered down the stairs, laughing to herself as she tried to get back on schedule. He had been worth the time; she thought idly…

…_what a pretty, young thing… _


End file.
